


a broken mess (just scattered pieces of who I am)

by shhgreenie



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, Thominewt, basically minho finds out, it's not pretty lol, minewt, newtmas - Freeform, pretty angsty, thominho - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:38:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3600024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shhgreenie/pseuds/shhgreenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>xx</p>
<p>“I loved him too,” his voice was trembling so hard Minho almost feels bad. “I loved him a-and I was just so stupid…”</p>
<p>The ache was back – that twisted feeling like someone was cutting into the very core of his heart. Minho knew he couldn’t stay angry at Thomas – not now, not like this.</p>
<p>“Yeah I know,” he said with some difficulty, “and he loved you too.”</p>
<p>xx</p>
            </blockquote>





	a broken mess (just scattered pieces of who I am)

 

“YOU DID _WHAT_?!”

“Minho – he asked for it! And if you think I don’t regret it _every. Single. Shucking. Day – ”_

“I. DON’T. CARE! ALL THIS TIME, AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME, NOT ONCE – ”

“ – he wouldn’t have wanted that! Minho, you know – ”

“ – JUST KEPT ME IN THE DARK, LIKE THE SELFISH SLINTHEAD YOU ARE – ”

“Minho I’m sorry, okay? I hate myself for it, and I’m _so shucking sorry_ – ”

“WELL YOU BETTER BE!”

Thomas’ lower lip trembled, but he held his ground. “I know you’re upset Minho, and I’m sorry, but Ne – he _wanted_ it, okay? He practically _begged_ – ”

There was a scream – one of pure pain and ripped agony – and Minho launched himself at Thomas, pushing him to the ground and pinning him there. Thomas shut his eyes, trying to drown out the flood of memories this action brought.

“YOU COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING! ANYTHING! I SPENT ALL THIS TIME THINKING THAT MAYBE HE SURVIVED, MAYBE HE’S SOMEWHERE, OKAY, ALIVE – ” Minho’s voice broke, and for a moment, his eyes lost the wild, crazed look, but then he screamed again, and this time hit Thomas squarely in the jaw.

Thomas winced painfully, but he didn’t struggle or try to fight back as Minho rained punch after punch on him, screaming at him every name under the sun. He just lay there, limply, knowing he deserved every single one of those bruises inflicted upon him.

Then Minho brought his fist down on Thomas’ face, and he felt his nose _break_ and blood gushed out onto his face, filling his mouth with the bitter, metallic taste.

“Hey – HEY! Minho – ”

“Dude, calm the fuck down!”

“Oi, Frypan, come help me – Minho, Min, stop!”

Thomas felt Minho being pulled away from him, and he rolled over on the floor, tears trickling down his face, but only – they weren’t caused by his physical injuries.

Minho was struggling furiously in the arms of the other Immunes.

“I LOVED HIM! I LOVED HIM THOMAS! I SHUCKING LOVED HIM!”

Thomas let out an inaudible whimper.

“YOU PRETENTIOUS LITTLE PIECE OF _SHIT_! I HATE YOU! I’LL _ALWAYS_ HATE YOU! _ALWAYS,_ ALWAYS!”

“Minho…” Thomas’ voice cracked, and he finally let himself cry.

 

xx

 

(It’s the middle of the night. His eyes are puffy and swollen and his throat is sore. He has never cried like this before, not even when they first took him out of the Box.

But all he can think of his _him_ , _him, him._ Him with his beautiful smile and brown eyes and blonde hair. Because when he thought of him, he was smiling. Always. Except now, it’s coupled with the sound of a gunshot. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut.

He wants to kill Thomas. Break his neck, tear him apart limb from limb. But that wouldn’t bring him back. A lump rises in his throat. What wouldn’t he give for just one more moment with him.

One more moment. To apologize, to tell him – tell him he loved him, had always loved him. He thinks of what he last said to him. _You’re going to shoot me? Old pal?_ Sarcastic and full of confidence, the way he spoke to everybody.

And they had parted fighting…

_Why did it hurt so much?!_ he screams silently to himself.

He wonders, briefly, how it would feel like to join him.)

 

xx

 

(There was no one in the world that hates him as much as himself right now.

He’s lying in bed, aching all over. He keeps his eyes wide open, not letting himself sleep. Because if he does, the nightmares will come, come like they always did, ever since…

Only sometimes it feels like the real nightmare is waking up, and the line between them is too blurred for him to tell the difference.

The tears don’t come. It was like they were all dried up, like everything is right now; he himself a shrivelled little creature, curled up in a ball, the pain slamming him over and over like a giant wave.

He wishes he could cry, then maybe this terrible, terrible ache inside of his chest would finally leave.

He misses him.

He misses his lopsided grin appearing whenever he says something stupid or funny, his wiry arms wrapped tentatively around him, his voice whispering in his ear. He misses his _presence_ , that warmth and safety he made him feel by just being _there._

He misses him so much he could just kill himself to join him.)

 

xx

 

Everyone’s asleep. It’s all quiet and even the crickets are silent. Somehow it was like the world was holding its breath, like it was at the edge of a precipice, an endless dark abyss. Or maybe that was just how Minho felt, like he was _this_ close to falling, falling, falling.

He sat at the end of his bed, not making any noise, his eyes blank as he stared pointlessly into the distance. He wished he could say the pain was _better_ , but this bitter numbness wasn’t much better than that raw blinding agony from before.

The bed dipped down to the other side as someone awkwardly shuffled to sit next to him. Realising who it was, Minho turned his head to one side, his body stiffening.

He heard Thomas swallow, and the intake of breath as he tried to say something. But a moment of silence passed, and Thomas closed his mouth. _He couldn’t do this._

After a few more attempts to speak, Thomas finally managed something out. “I’m a bastard.”

Minho nodded before thinking, then quickly stopped himself.

Thomas drew in his breath shakily. “I-I’m not begging for forgiveness, Minho. I’m a fucking slinthead, and you don’t know _how much_ I hate myself – ”

“Just stop it, okay?” Minho snapped. He wasn’t in the mood for this, for _anything._

He just wanted to be angry, to wallow in his own regret and self-hatred.

Thomas was silent for a moment. Then – like the son of a bitch he was – he spoke up again.

“I never wanted – never… I just – he begged for it. And I know that’s not gonna make me seem any less like the world’s worst person, but – ”

“You’re _not_ the world’s worst person, okay? Now can you just _leave_ – ”

“No – just _listen to me!_ _He_ _wanted it, he wanted to be freed,_ and maybe you could think of that, at least he died happy – ”

“ _He didn’t!_ He didn’t, okay Thomas? He died half-insane, tired of his life! He died _wanting to get out!_ He died because he wanted it to be over! Not all that bullshit that he was _happy –_ ”

He stopped when he realized just how deep those words had hurt.

Thomas’ eyes were threatening to spill over; his hands shaking. “I’m sorry, “ he whispered. “I’m so shucking sorry – you don’t know _how – ”_

His voice cracked as he wiped his eyes furiously with the sleeve of his worn shirt.

“I loved him too,” his voice was trembling so hard Minho almost feels bad. “I loved him a-and I was just _so stupid_ …”

The ache was back – that twisted feeling like someone was cutting into the very core of his heart. Minho knew he couldn’t stay angry at Thomas – not now, not like this.

“Yeah I know,” he said with some difficulty, “and he loved you too.”

Thomas looked up at Minho, and his eyes were so wide and broken and his cheeks so tear-stained that the ache just got worse.

“He did.” The words seem to be falling out of his mouth by their own accord. “Everyone could see it. It was shucking obvious.”

Thomas looked back down at his knotted hands. “N-Newt loves the both of us,” he insisted, stumbling over the name. “ _Love_ in present tense. And _will love._ ” His hand reached out hesitatingly, but Minho laced his fingers with Thomas’, and Thomas smiled slightly.

Minho didn’t really know why, but suddenly the pain didn’t hurt that much anymore.

 

xx

 

(Thomas has his own ways of comforting, he learns, from the interlocked fingers to the kiss he presses to his cheek, then lips.

He doesn’t mind at all, likes it even.

Because he knows _he_ wouldn’t have minded, would’ve smiled that sincere smile with a _just don’t take it too fast, you bugger._ )

 

xx

 

(It feels…nice. Right.

Yeah, because he’s just that stupid, impulsive person; curious to find out how it would feel to kiss Minho, _Minho_ , his best friend.

He never thought it was possible for the heart to mend himself, not after _Newt._

His name still sounds so beautiful, coming from his lips.

Newt. _I’ll see you soon. I still love you._ )

 

xx

 

_Stupid little shanks._

_Took you bloody long enough._

_I can’t wait to see ya again._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on Tumblr first (inspired by Pieces by Red btw). Leave kudos and comments and stuff? I'll tattoo them all over my heart UwU


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